Literally nothing makes me angrier than institutionalized, unacknowledged sexism. I'm indescribably tired of being implicitly held to different standards because of my gender. I'm tired of watching less talented/qualified men be taken seriously when I have to fight so hard to be.
I'm tired of the army of male trolls waiting to leap on my every typo or error/correction, twist it beyond recognition and hold it up to the public as evidence that I'm not good at my job/crazy/not very bright. I'm tired of men in this industry being so quick to believe them.
I'm tired of watching my female friends in the media be torn apart and shunned for things men do with literally no consequence whatsoever. I'm tired of being treated differently, I'm tired of having to explain myself all the time, I'm tired of working so hard to prove my worth.
Most of all, I'm tired of the men in this industry participating in a sexist system without being aware of it. Everyone, just do me a solid: before you criticize a woman in the media for something, stop and ask yourself if it would matter so much to you if she were male. Thnx
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To everyone reaching out to me with concern: I’m fine. I stand by my journalism and I will never be ashamed of writing about my struggles with mental illness and drug abuse. To anyone facing similar demons: you are not alone. I am proof that healing is possible. Stick with it.
To the people who have spent so much energy trying to bring me down: I am still standing. I am still learning, and growing, and healing from a long history of trauma more each day. I wish them only more peace of mind than they seem to have, in their current state of existence.
I won’t be on here much, as I continue to follow my path of healing and recovery, wherever it leads me. I just want to say that I am by no means perfect, but after much work, I’m not ashamed of who I am anymore. I’m not sure the people trying so hard to hurt me can say the same.
So I don’t know how all your Friday nights are going, but my phone, while plugged into our car’s navigation system, just spontaneously pulled up the route from Israel into Lebanon, which stayed on the screen for a few minutes, and then disappeared 😱
(I have never been to Israel...and had not been searching for those terms in Google maps previously)
Oh, also. I’m in Canada? Should have mentioned that 😳
Whatever I’ve written about #Syria seems so meaningless, in the face of such tragedy. Most of you won’t read this and who can blame you? Impotent grief is hard to feel. But if I had to choose 1 story from 10 years of watching a country burn, it’s this one. foreignpolicy.com/2016/06/29/syr…
Many other heartrending moments never made it into print, like the little boy I met in 2012 at a camp in Aley. He couldn’t have been more than 8 or 9. This was just after Obama walked back his red line. This child saw his father and uncle killed in front of him. His sister later.
I was doing other interviews in his little makeshift school when he came up to me. He looked at me with the deadest eyes I’ve ever seen in a human face. “Where is America?” he whispered to me. “Tell Obama we need help.”
My IPhone just reminded me of the weirdest thing I've ever seen while reporting. I was staying with a tribe in the KRG. This tribe had been on that land for many centuries, and digging up ancient artifacts the whole time. Their patriarch showed me this, in their makeshift museum.
I'm very curious to know more about this artifact, because it's very interesting-looking, but that's not the weird part. This is the weird part. The tribal leader told me the stump had been there for three years. The museum had no windows, so no light. It had been given no water.
I welcome any science types who can explain this, as it's something I've been curious about for a long time. How can a tree stump grow leaves without light or water for three years? Seemed quite strange, especially with the weird artifact, but I'm sure there's an explanation.
This is my great-grandmother, Bahiyeh, who grew up in Damascus. When her husband’s family wanted to marry her 8-year-old daughter, my teta, to a cousin in his 20s, she took her child and escaped to Lebanon, where they lived in hiding for years, so their family wouldn’t kill them.
This is Souad, my teta, who grew up poor, in a country notorious for its xenophobia and sectarianism. She was married and divorced twice; the second time to my jido, Adib Bassil. Adib came from a wealthy Maronite Catholic family (yes, the same as Gebran, to our endless shame).
Adib was an high-ranking officer in the Phalange, a right-wing Christian militia, when he met my teta. This is Adib as a young man with his family, standing in the back, far right. He died when I was a toddler, but I’m told he was always very stern and serious, from a young age.
We need a more moral foreign policy, particularly in MENA; not just because it's right, but because exploitation, invasion, turning local populations against us, and selling weapons to dictators who serve our interests while preaching about democracy hasn't worked out so well.
I was on a panel in which I argued for this, and several men kind of smirked, like I was naive. One brought up the idea that weapons sales to dictators gives us some measure of control over them. I just thought, somewhere in hell, Saddam Hussein is having a good laugh at that one
It's not naive to point out that blowing things up and consistently serving our immediate interests, usually at the expense of local populations in the places where we meddle, is just not working, and has repeatedly damaged our long-term interests. So why not try something else?